Solid Ground
by Rigel99
Summary: Major Matthew Hayes has been requested for temporary reassignment from Enterprise. How will Malcolm and the MACOs cope with this change in the command structure? And will Hayes' mission compromise his unwavering integrity? Part 3 of the Matthew Hayes Resurrected series.
1. Chapter 1

Captain Archer was sitting in his Ready Room. He gazed at Major Matthew Hayes with a look of due respect.

He knew full well that Enterprise never would have made it through the Xindi Crisis without the combat skills and expertise of Hayes and his team of MACOs. One of the better decisions I made throughout the whole damn soul-destroying experience, he thought to himself. Not that for one moment did he doubt the abilities of Malcolm Reed and his Security Team. But as a vessel of exploration, Enterprise was manned with Starfleet personnel experienced in and equipped for just that. Malcolm was the closest thing to a soldier that Archer had on his crew, but he wasn't leading a team of battle-hardened soldiers.

Hayes was standing at ease in front of Archer's Ready Room desk.

Archer gently tapped his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. "How long have you been with us now, Major?"

Hayes keeping his gaze level, still looking straight ahead, responded without hesitation. "16 months and 9 days, Sir."

Archer chuckled. "Counting the days, Major?"

Hayes was happy to be honest with Archer. He respected the Captain immensely and after all Starfleet and the MACOs had been through together, it wasn't such a leap of faith anymore.

"I won't deny that space has been tough on my team, Captain. Not that we would change any part of it with respect to our role in Enterprise's mission."

It was one of the many attributes Archer liked about the Major. When he spoke, he spoke with every member of his team in mind. They were a living, breathing unit. Archer stood and walked around the desk to look the Major in the eye.

Archer got straight to the point. "How would you feel about some time on terra firma? A reassignment?"

Hayes' controlled expression slipped for a split second. "Sir?"

Archer continued. "I've had a request from Starfleet, asking if Enterprise can spare you for a while. I was wondering how you'd feel about that. Being away from your team. Who would you place in charge of the MACOs in your stead?"

If Hayes was thrown by the suddenness of the request, he didn't betray any feelings one way or another on the matter. Something else I like about him, thought Archer, with a hint of amusement. The man is unflappable.

To say Hayes' curiosity was piqued would be an understatement. It would take some serious heavyweight influence in Starfleet to separate a lead MACO Officer from his team, so the upper echelons of his command structure must be in on it too, otherwise Archer wouldn't be standing in front of him now posing the question.

"MacKenzie, Sir," came the response. "She knows the team and how it functions as well as I do."

Archer gave him a smile. "Excellent, Major."

He returned to his seat. "I must say, despite knowing that the MACOs were needed on board, I had given a lot of serious thought to how it would unbalance the ship's security team already in place."

"You and I both, Sir," Hayes replied. "It wasn't easy for Lieutenant Reed and I in the early stages of our professional arrangement. Having as much as we did in common, a clash was inevitable."

"Well, I'm glad to observe that the differences that led to that infamous clash appear to have been laid to rest," said Archer.

"Couldn't agree more, Sir," replied Hayes, expressionless as ever.

Archer handed him the PADD from his desk. "Here is your assignment. We will be rendezvousing with a Vulcan ship that is heading your direction, past the Sol System."

Hayes paused as he took the PADD from Archer's outstretched hand. "I'm going back to Earth, Sir?"

Archer nodded. "You are, Major. It appears you made quite an impression on Ambassador Meara Shaw…"


	2. Chapter 2

Dismissed, Hayes exited the Ready Room and studied the PADD as he entered the Turbolift to depart the Bridge. As he stepped in and turned round, he looked up to see Malcolm poring over his station on Tactical. Well, I'll miss that sight for one thing, he thought to himself, as the door slipped shut.

On exiting the lift and heading for his quarters, he bumped into Kemper.

"Sergeant."

"Yes, Sir?" said Kemper standing to attention in the corridor. "At ease. Gather the team in the training area in one hour. I need to brief you all on a new… development."

"Of course, Sir."

"Thanks, Sergeant," he nodded as he continued onto his quarters. He'd need to review the assignment and assess what details he could and couldn't share with his team. Though given what they went through with Meara Shaw during her sojourn on Enterprise, you could probably fit those details on the butt of his particle rifle.

* * *

Hayes was right about the butt of his particle rifle.

"You're being reassigned, Sir?," said Romero, with a slight frown.

"I believe that's what I just said, Corporal," ignoring the fact that he was speaking out of turn. He understood it was a bit of a bombshell to drop on your team in the middle of space.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?," said Cole.

At least someone's remembered military etiquette, he thought. "Go ahead."

"Given we're in the middle of space, Major, I was wondering where exactly you were being assigned to?," she asked smoothly.

Hayes strode up the line as he spoke. Some details he could give. "I'm going on mission back on Earth."

"But we're weeks from the Sol system—"

Hayes raised his hand to stem the chatter. "Enterprise will be rendezvousing with another ship - a Vulcan ship - in a day or so, that is heading that way. At their Warp speed, the Captain tells me we'll make it to Jupiter station in less than seven days."

He continued before any more questions could be thrown out there. "Obviously for security reasons I can't go into detail, even with my own team. You all appreciate the term, need to know…" He turned to walk down the line again. "As I said, it is a temporary assignment and the timeframe is set. I know how much you bunch of reprobates need constant, adult supervision," he said with mock amusement in an effort to ease the tension, "so MacKenzie will be helping you tie your bootlaces in my absence," pausing in front of her.

As expected, the order was received without a murmur. "Dismissed. Except you, Corporal."

"Sir," she said, curtly, remaining at attention, looking straight ahead.

Hayes waited until the room was clear. "I can count on you, can't I, Corporal?," he said firmly.

"Absolutely, Major. This team is my life and as my mentor throughout this mission, my sole purpose is to represent your best interests and that of this team."

Loyalty, he thought, there is no finer quality in a MACO. He needed to be clear though.

"We've come a long way from the Unit that left Earth before the Xindi mission, Corporal." He looked at her piercingly. "I need to know that in my absence, you will continue building on that."

MacKenzie knew he was referring to relations with the Enterprise crew. As long as he doesn't ask me to have dinner with Lieutenant Reed, she thought to herself, I think I can manage…

He turned his back to her as he spoke. "Hell," he said quietly, "Of all people, I know firsthand how irritating and difficult the Lieutenant can be. When it comes to duty and goddam preciousness about what he perceives as his territory, he can be a real pain in the ass."

Turning to face her again, he said, "But I think you'll find he's come a long way too. So give him a chance. I don't want to come back to a repeat of the mistakes I made when we first came aboard Enterprise."

"Understood, Sir. You can count on me."

Hayes gave a quick nod. "Dismissed." He did know he could count on her. He just hoped he could count on Malcolm as well.

* * *

Leaving the Mess after a further less formal discussion with MacKenzie, Hayes was heading to his quarters for a couple of quiet hours before he broke the news of his reassignment to Malcolm. Letting his mind wander, he thought about the woman he would soon be seeing again, and smiled absently thinking back to how she had brought Malcolm and him together.

And think of the Devil, thought Hayes, as the door slipped open to allow Malcolm entry to the Turbolift.

"And what might you be smiling about?" he asked Hayes, looking straight ahead.

"You mean aside from the fact that I've hooked up with the hottest guy in Starfleet?"

"Really? I didn't know you and Commander Tucker were an item."

"Blond and brooding? Not really my type. Tend to go more for dark and irritating myself."

"What a coincidence. I know someone just like that. I wonder if we're discussing the same officer?"

"Unlikely. The guy I'm talking about has a strangely attractive accent and a really fine ass—"

The turbolift door opened to reveal Trip Tucker. Hayes didn't miss a beat.

"-et to the team, Sir. In fact, I'm thinking of recommending her for a promotion," said Hayes smoothly.

I'm sure you'll do what's best for your team, Major," replied Malcolm, stepping out of the lift with a nod to Trip.

"Yes, Sir."

As the lift started up again, Trip took a sideways glance towards Hayes. "Refreshin' to see you guys gettin' along so well these days."

"Yes, Commander," came the non-committed response.

All the conversational skills of a Vulcan, thought Trip to himself, as the Turbolift ground to halt and Hayes stepped out.

"Have a good shift, Major." "Likewise Commander," said Hayes with a nod. Yup, thought Trip, as the lift sped towards Engineering. He'd fit right in with those pointy-eared party animals.


	3. Chapter 3

Reed and MacKenzie accompanied Hayes to the transporter room in relative silence. All had been said that needed to be said. As Hayes stepped onto the platform, he looked at her. Hayes couldn't resist a parting jibe at his former adversary's expense, just to keep things interesting.

"Well, I've had my fill of the Lieutenant. This mission'll be practically like shore leave. I guess it's your turn now, Corporal," he quipped.

If there were a commendation for deadpan, Hayes would qualify 10 times over, thought Malcolm. "Perhaps you'll do your best not to destroy 100 years of Vulcan-Human intergalactic cooperation, Major," Malcolm said coolly before the transporter beam took him.

* * *

Hayes lay on the mat on the floor of the Vulcan guest quarters. There was just enough room to swing the smallest of Phlox's collection of pets. The environment was warmer than Enterprise, the air slightly thicker. Feels kinda comforting, Hayes thought. Memories surfaced. A desert recon, in search of a rogue faction hiding out in the Australian Outback. He remembered lying under the stars and thinking about Joshua, pushing to the back of his mind how hard it had been to say goodbye and instead, imagining their reuniting at the end of his mission.

Now, Hayes was back on mission, heading back to the core of soldiering. He felt… centred. More so than he had in a while. Was this what solid ground in space felt like? The ship was quiet, peaceful. Maybe he had more in common with Vulcans than he thought, he considered wryly.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a brief but memorable indulgence…

* * *

He knocked on the door. Malcolm's muffled voice answered. "Come in!"

Matthew entered to see him standing by the bed in his guest room unpacking his carryall.

He looked up with a slight smile and walked over to meet Matthew halfway across the room.

This time, it was Malcolm who raised his hand to lightly rest on the side of Matthew's neck. And this time, it was Matthew who spoke first.

"You know, that night I spent in Meara's quarters…" He caught Malcolm's look and corrected himself, "That night, I _fell asleep_ in Meara's quarters…"

Malcolm looked at him with an unflinching gaze. "You know, I'm not quite sure I buy that one, Major."

"Frankly Malcolm, we wouldn't have been up to much anyway. Even if we'd wanted to. Especially as we wore ourselves out talking about you most of the night."

Malcolm's eyes flashed a moment of vulnerability before looking at him suspiciously. "And? Did you glean anything worthwhile?"

Matthew continued as he began opening the buttons on Malcolm's shirt while backing them up towards the bed.

"We talked about how you met, things you got up to at the Academy. When I probed any deeper she got evasive and eventually told me that if I wanted to get to know the real Malcolm Reed I'd have to adopt the approach she took."

Malcolm stilled Matthew's hands. He moved them down to Malcolm's hips, continuing to move towards the bed.

"Do tell…."

They'd reached said destination and Matthew resumed unbuttoning Malcolm's shirt before bringing his lips to his jawline. "She said I'd have to allow myself to fall in love with you…"

Malcolm pulled back. His eyes were black and sparkling. "And have you let yourself do that, Matthew?," he queried with mock seriousness.

"The jury's still out," he said, "but I am of the opinion, Mr Reed, that the possibility bears further investigation," he concluded before pushing Malcolm to the bed.

* * *

Hayes woke with a start. He looked around in mild disorientation. The Vulcan ship, he thought to himself.

The equivalent of what Hayes thought to be an internal comm had sounded.

"T'Vak to Major Hayes." Hayes looked around but couldn't see a comm panel. He sat up. Of course, everything Vulcan is more advanced. He spoke to the air.

"Hayes here, Captain."

"Would you care to join me and my First Officer for your equivalent of an evening meal?"

How could he pass up such a gracious offer? Malcolm may have been joking when he said it, but Hayes hoped to hell he wasn't about to dip his toes into the pool of diplomacy and simultaneously burn the bridges of Vulcan-Human relations.

"Of course, Ma'am. It would be an honour to dine at the Captain's table."

"I'll send a crewman along shortly to guide you. T'Vak out."


	4. Chapter 4

As the Ensign led him through the dimly-lit corridors of the ship towards the Captain's Mess, Hayes fell back on the reassuring demeanour of soldier that had stood him in good stead nearly all of his adult life. He was grateful that he'd had the foresight, before his stint with the Vulcans, to get a few pointers from the only one he had ever met.

Despite their limited interaction on Enterprise, Hayes had been surprised by her observation of him. He regarded himself with a high degree of objectivity, but Sub-Commander T'Pol's ability to cut through the bullshit that most people spent their lives wading through put his ability to do the same, to relative shame.

"Major Hayes," she had stated. "If it were anyone else representing Humanity on a Vulcan vessel, I would have shared my thoughts on the matter with Captain Archer."

From what he had heard about her, this was about as glowing an endorsement as any Human could get from a Vulcan. He'd have to try not let it go to his head.

If nothing else, the next eight days would give him some serious insight into the strength of character displayed by the Sub-Commander during her extended time cohabiting with Earthers, and how he himself measured up to the shoe being on the other foot.

* * *

T'Vak looked thoughtfully at the door to her dining room.

Her First Officer, V'Lus, was watching her. She turned to him. "That was… enlightening." V'Lus gave a curt nod in agreement.

"Indeed, Captain. Major Hayes is the first human I have had the opportunity to observe in close quarters. The experience was not at all what I expected."

T'Vak took her seat again. "Agreed. Though my own experience is limited, I did spend several weeks on Earth at the Vulcan Compound. Coupled with what I know of Terrans from the Vulcan database, I am certain, in scientific terms, Major Hayes would be considered an outlier."

There had been no small talk over dinner. Hayes had allowed the Vulcans to take the initiative throughout the meal. He was staunch, expressionless and completely composed. He was not an adequate representation of the highly illogical, emotionally-charged species.

"It is evident why Ambassador Shaw selected Major Hayes," said V'Lus as he took his seat again, "particularly given the political sensitivity of the mission." T'Vak and V'Lus had served together for a long time. Trust was implicit. "Your brother," he enquired, "you have been in contact?"

"Only to advise of the rendezvous with Enterprise," replied T'Vak. "He had been contacted by Ambassador Shaw with regard to what Humans call "a favour." Meara Shaw herself was something of an enigmatic curiosity to him during her time under his mentorship on Vulcan. 'Impressive for a Human by Vulcan standards' was his assessment of her."

"Then let us hope that her "impressiveness" extends to sound judgement of character," said V'Lus.

* * *

Money was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Lieutenant Reed had selected her as his partner for practicing a set of moves in a sparring session and boy, was she gonna make the most of it…

Malcolm, for his part, had been waiting for this opportunity. The words had never been spoken between him and Matthew, but he knew, the moment that Hayes had told him of the personal relationship between Money and Hawkins, and her recent displays of anger unleashed on Hoshi and Trip, that she had been venting, albeit in the wrong direction. She couldn't take it out on him without it being obvious. So, Malcolm decided to give her an opening. And she took it. Must be getting soft in my old age, he thought, as he performed a countermove to her almost iron-like grip.

It had been three days since Hayes had left Enterprise. Malcolm had enough experience of the chain of command to appreciate that it would take time for both MACOs and Starfleet personnel to adjust. He wasn't expecting cuddling sessions from Corporal MacKenzie but he hoped, given that Hayes had taken a personal interest in her career development, she would be amenable to maintaining the status quo. As it turned out, she was a bigger ball-breaker than even Hayes. If that were possible.

"I want this team ready for anything. The Galaxy's a big place. The Xindi? For all we know, the tip of the "let's destroy Humanity" iceberg," MacKenzie said loudly.

Talk about overcompensating, thought Malcolm, as he watched her stride up and down the line of at-attention MACOs.

"For the benefit of those who are thinking it," she continued. "Yes. I am overcompensating." Malcolm managed to keep his expression neutral.

"Yes. I do have a point to prove. I don't want the Major to come back to Enterprise to a bunch of flabby, old ladies, sitting round, nursing their rifles, reminiscing about the good old days. You think Hayes was tough? You're in for a treat from me," she concluded barely concealing her smirk. "Do we understand each other?"

"YES SIR!"

"DISMISSED!"

Malcolm nodded to the waiting Fleet personnel. "Dismissed."

He walked up to MacKenzie. "Excellent speech, Corporal. If you don't mind my saying, Major Hayes has a good eye for leadership qualities."

MacKenzie looked at him closely, looking for any signs of sarcasm. Sometimes it was difficult to tell. She never did get the British sense of humour. She'd have to up her game. Keep your MACOs close, keep Fleeters closer, she thought.

"I believe so too, Sir," she replied smoothly.

Confident too, thought Malcolm, let's hope not overly so.

"I think we understand each other, don't we Corporal?"

"We do, Lieutenant. I know it won't be easy in the absence of the Major, but I'd like to think shared experience will stand us in good stead. As long as we can draw the line at having dinner together. Sir…"

Not to be beaten, Malcolm replied levelly. "Couldn't agree more, Corporal. We both have our reputations to maintain."

With a nod to each other, MacKenzie departed, allowing herself a smile as she strode out the training area. Hopefully, she thought, I can ignore the smug and annoying part and focus on the fact that he is the Head of Security on this boat…


	5. Chapter 5

Hayes stepped into the hatch leading to the transport that would take him the brief distant (in space terms anyway) to Jupiter Station. He turned to Captain T'Vak and her First Officer.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Captain. It's been…. an educational experience. One that I won't be forgetting any time soon," he said.

"Your assessment is mutually appreciated, Major Hayes. We have learned much during your brief time with us," she replied.

Hayes couldn't think for a second what possible benefits the experience had afforded his hosts. Maybe T'Pol would have some insights for him when he got back to Enterprise. He almost smiled at the thought of the expression on Malcolm's face if he could be here to witness the moment. He'd managed to retain his composure for seven days. He'd be damned if the image of Malcolm Reed popping into his head was going to blow it for him now. Sneaky British bastard, he thought to himself, got to keep that sort of mind rambling well under wraps.

T'Vak raised her hand. "A safe onward journey, Major." Hayes returned the gesture in kind. "To another 100 years of peaceful Vulcan-Human relations, Captain."

T'Vak raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." As far as her interactions with humans were concerned, it was the closest she'd ever come to experiencing the emotion of surprise.

* * *

Shortly after reaching Jupiter Station, Hayes boarded a warp-capable transport for Earth. Though his composure remained calm for the 2-hour journey, his mind was slowly gearing up in anticipation of the mission. Hayes had only been furnished with the bare bones. The detail would have to wait until he got to Starfleet Headquarters. He did know it was related to the incident on Enterprise during the Qo'nos mission and the discovery by Phlox of the deadly capacity of Meara, unbeknown to her or anyone else on board, so by process of association, it must be related to the possible infiltration of Section 31 by Terra Prime. It concerned him slightly that he might be getting dragged into the arena of political intrigue, a playground he was in no way, shape or form equipped to deal with. But on the other hand, he trusted Meara and her judgement. She'd seen fit to request he be given this assignment. This meant one of two things: She was getting either really paranoid about who she could trust within Section 31 or, those she could actually trust were getting very thin on the ground. Either way, he would do everything in his power to protect her. Malcolm would expect nothing less and he'd rather not go back to Enterprise and face Malcolm at all should he allow anything to happen to her. He knew how much they meant to each other, even if he didn't truly know how deep that vein of friendship pulsed. Yet. Luckily he was a patient man. He'd get it out of Malcolm eventually. By any means necessary, he thought with a smile.

On their last evening together, Meara had confided to himself and Malcolm that she was tiring of the cloak-and-dagger life she led with Section 31, though she knew how valuable an asset she was to the Section and to Starfleet. After witnessing what she managed to pull off on the Klingon home world (damn, he still got goosebumps when he replayed that fight in the combat arena in his head…), he was sure her path led towards representing Earth's best interest for developing relations with other planets. We hadn't exactly made a good first impression on our own, he thought to himself, though Enterprise and her crew hadn't exactly been welcomed with open arms by the rest of the galaxy either. But that diplomatic future must be a bit further down the road, he considered, as they warped ever closer to their blue-green destination.

He closed his eyes. He was looking forward to seeing the red-haired fireball again. Being as selective as he was with respect to close friendships and the value he placed on them, he felt a surge of loyalty to both Malcolm and Meara in that moment that he only, since losing Joshua and Tara, identified with his MACO Team. The added dimension of intimacy he and Malcolm had permitted themselves only enhanced the feeling of loyalty and devotion he harboured towards Meara Shaw for bringing them together. He hoped he was up to whatever she had in store for him. He immediately dropkicked that thought into touch. Of course he was up to it. Challenge. It's what made us better than we were the moment before we accepted it. Hayes was a man who rarely felt doubt, but if it did raise its head, he was quick to decapitate it.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We will be arriving at the orbital docking station in 10 minutes from where you will take your shuttle transport to your final destination. We hope you had a pleasant journey and wish you safe onward passage."

Home, he thought, smiling, making a mental note to bring some contraband back to Enterprise for his team. In the best interests of keeping his head on shoulders and his balls intact…


	6. Chapter 6

Malcolm was exhausted. He'd spent most of his shift coordinating with Engineering. The recently upgraded weapons system had been playing up, the equivalent of blowing a few fuses in the grid from which it was fed its power. This in turn, of course, resulted in Trip Tucker blowing a few fuses of his own. It was difficult to keep a steady demeanour when faced with an arm-waving diva, flapping around him, banging on about his precious engines. Malcolm briefly considered kissing him just to shut him up. The thought of the look on his face were he to do so, caused a fleeting smile to cross his features which, of course, led to another tirade from the Engineer. Malcolm thought his sessions with T'Pol must be having the desired effect given the amount of patience he had exhibited throughout the entire display.

He looked at his chronometer. He had four hours before his next shift. He gave in to images of Matthew Hayes and wondered if the assignment was going according to plan…

* * *

Malcolm woke to the feel of warm breath at the back of his neck, a warm body pressed against his back and a strong, heavy arm draped over his waist.

It was their first intimate encounter and Malcolm certainly hadn't been disappointed. He hoped Matthew felt the same way. As though feeling the unsettledness from beside him, "Malcolm?," Matthew asked sleepily, "you OK?"

He sighed. "Funnily enough, I was contemplating asking you the same…" Matthew knew instantly what he was talking about. This was an issue that sat at the core of Malcolm Reed and he suspected Meara was the only other person in the galaxy that understood. Malcolm and Matthew's first time together had been immensely satisfying but they hadn't gone… all the way… so to speak.

Matthew gripped his side to roll Malcolm onto his back so he could look him in the eyes.

"I won't deny I'm… curious… interested… but I certainly won't force the issue. I know you'll speak of it when you're ready. And I hope it's with me that you'll feel able to share that burden…"

Malcolm raised his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth. His expression was grateful. "Quite the memory you've got there, Matthew."

He shrugged before lying back on his side again and pulling Malcolm close. "It helps in our line of work."

* * *

Hayes could feel a pair of eyes burning holes in the side of his face.

He was sitting outside General Casey's office, waiting for him to return from an emergency meeting, occupying himself reading a PADD relaying the latest news from around the world.

"Something on your mind there, Private?," he queried, not looking at the young officer who was acting as Casey's PA.

"Um, no Sir," she responded. Hayes frowned. There was an edge to her voice. Was that… awe?

He looked at her then, catching her looking quickly back to her terminal.

"Out with it, Private," he said flatly.

She was about to say something when the General appeared through the door. Casey caught her expression. "Your jaw appears to have come unhinged, Private." She snapped her flapping jaw shut, as she blushed slightly. "Is everything—" As he was speaking, Hayes had stood up to attention and Casey saw him as he stepped round to close the door.

"I see…," said Casey, expressionlessly. I wish I saw whatever's so abundantly clear to him, thought Hayes.

"At ease, Major. You're a little early, but no matter. Join me in my office."

Hayes followed, casting a slight frowning glance at the Private, as Casey opened the door to his office and took his seat behind the desk. "You may have noticed your reputation precedes you, Major," he stated, tapping a few keys on his terminal, not looking at Hayes.

"General?"

The General folded his hands on his desk in front of him. "The Private, like many young officers, hold you in very high regard since the Xindi Crisis. Dare I say, you and your team have increased considerably the popularity amongst the civilian population of serving in the MACOs."

Hayes remained silent. Anything he said would probably come across as disingenuous.

Casey appreciated Hayes' character. One of the best officers with whom he'd ever had the pleasure of serving.

"Admiral Forrest and Ambassador Shaw will be along momentarily and we can brief you on the mission together."

"Yes Sir."

"Let's drop the formalities for a moment, Hayes." He called up the Major's service record on his terminal. "So, when are you going to accept promotion? The pressures of serving on Enterprise during the Xindi mission would have had the most battle-weary soldier champing at the bit for a taste of the quiet life back on Earth." He sat back, waiting Hayes' reply.

Hayes allowed himself to look at his superior officer. "Speaking freely, General, out in the field is where I belong and will belong for some time. This is a crucial and sensitive time to be at the forefront of Starfleet endeavours and I firmly believe my team is best placed on Enterprise for the foreseeable future."

Casey's expression remained neutral. "I must admit I had my doubts when you put yourself forward for the Xindi mission, knowing what you yourself had lost…" To his credit, Hayes didn't flinch. "But your most recent psych eval certainly puts you front and centre for leading a team into the unknown so I can't argue with your logic."

"Speaking of logic," he continued, "I'd love to hear how that little trip en route to Earth went. 8 days… I can barely cope spending 8 minutes with Soval…" His comm sounded and the Private's voice cut through.

"Go ahead, Private."

"General. Admiral Forrest and the Ambassador are here."

"Send them in." As he cut the comm, he said to Hayes, "Maybe we can grab a beer before you go on mission and you can tell me all about it."

The Private opened the door. "This way, Admiral, Ambassador."

Hayes had been looking forward to this moment for days. The woman who stepped through the door, however, was not the Meara Shaw he remembered. The soft voice with just a hint of an Irish accent though, penetrated his memory faculty.

She smiled at his expression and stepped up close to place a warm hand on his forearm. "It's me, Major," said the blue-eyed blonde.


	7. Chapter 7

They had been working in relative silence for about thirty minutes, Malcolm concentrating on the realignments necessary to make sure power flow between weapons and the power source itself in Engineering were precision perfect. This is quite relaxing, Malcolm thought to himself, meditative in some respects, though he doubted T'Pol would consider tinkering with anything weapons-related as soothingly meditative.

He hadn't noticed Trip's occasional glances in his direction, being his usual absorbed self in the task at hand.

As if reading his mind, Trip's voice cut through his ambling reverie. He cleared his throat before saying, "So, Malcolm. What's the deal with you and T'Pol?"

Malcolm started from his task and looked at him pointedly. "There is no, as you call it, "deal," Commander," using his title as a reminder they were on duty and in any event, given his innate sense of privacy, he didn't really want Trip to know any detail of his sessions with the Vulcan.

"Com' on, Malcolm… Why so cagey? You finally let down that great British guard of yours to explore the benefits of neuropressure? Maybe we can compare experiences…," he said casually.

Under past circumstances, Malcolm would have taken his leave of the conversation and found something else to do until Trip's curiosity temporarily abated, but this was not the past.

Continuing with his work, he replied, "Well Commander, while we haven't explored that avenue, I may have to amend that in an effort to alleviate the pain in my backside you are inducing at this moment in time."

While Trip was speechless for less than three seconds, Malcolm considered this a rare moment of oneupmanship with the motor-mouthed Engineer. Malcolm permitted him his usual reserved smile, accompanied with his trademark knowing look.

Trip regained his casual composure. "You aren't one of those Malcolms from a parallel universe, are ya? 'Cos I don't recall our Armoury Officer ever givin' that amount of lip to a senior officer."

"My apologies. Commander."

'Gettin' real good at concealing his sarcasm too,' thought Trip to himself.

The comm beeped.

"T'Pol to Lieutenant Reed."

He caught sight of Trip's eyebrows retreating into his hairline before reaching for the comm. "Reed here. Go ahead, Sub-Commander."

"Would it inconvenience your schedule were we to arrange a later time this evening for our session?"

"Of course not, Sub-Commander. I appreciate the time you've already given over to our…," he paused for a second, while looking at Trip who was listening with rapt attention to the exchange, "sessions."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll advise you soon of my availability. T'Pol out."

Trip opened his mouth to comment, but Malcolm cut across him before he got a word out.

"I'm in need of some tea, Commander. Would you mind if I took 10 minutes to perk up my senses?"

From the expression on his face, Trip reckoned Malcolm was looking far too perky already. Still, no harm in playing down the curiosity he was feeling, might throw the annoyingly little Brit off his game.

Trip switched to neutral. "Of course not, Lieutenant," he replied with a sweeping gesture of his hand towards the door. "Be my guest."

"Thank you, Sir." Malcolm waited until he was out the door before allowing himself a smile. Meditation certainly has its advantages, he thought to himself.

* * *

"I have been reading up on the subject, Sub-Commander. From the human perspective. I feel the Vulcan experience would be far too complex to grasp." Malcolm had settled himself on the floor opposite T'Pol, mirroring her posture.

"I agree, Lieutenant," T'Pol replied level and bluntly. "However, through the years I myself have been practising, learning and honing the technique, the knowledge contained within the available literature pales in comparison to the experience afforded through self-exploration in itself." She paused while gazing at him over the flame that hovered between them. "It may seem an intrusion but I cannot help but be curious as to why now, someone such as yourself, so calm and composed—" T'Pol stopped short of saying "for a human" — "would feel the need to further explore this side of their nature…"

It may have been only a trace of a frown, but T'Pol caught it. "Forgive me, Lieutenant. It was not my intention to pry. I simply considered that were I to understand better your own reasoning for this exploration of self, I might be better equipped to guide you in fulfilling your needs."

Under any other circumstances, such a statement would have had all sorts of illicit thoughts flowing through the limbic part of Malcolm's brain. He shifted his position slightly, pausing for a moment to consider the ramifications of sharing the intimate details…

He decided to split the difference.

"I think you will likely have observed, Sub-Commander, that I take my duties as Head of Security on Enterprise to the extreme."

T'Pol gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"In retrospect, since our time in the Expanse, I felt that "extreme" attitude was more of a hindrance than a help."

T'Pol's face remained inscrutable as ever.

Malcolm continued. "My passion for and blind devotion to my position jeopardised working relationships, caused a rift in what could have been a much stronger and prepared unit had I been for example, more… amenable, to the presence of the MACOs."

"I fear my pride may have cost lives. In short, I seek balance, a little peace of mind and perhaps somewhat selfishly, absolution for myself," he concluded.

Malcolm had surprised himself with the admission. But, he was absolutely certain that, with the exception of the only two people he had come to trust in the galaxy, T'Pol's sense of discretion was equal to that of her degree of emotional control.

She spoke after a few heartbeats. "No one was left unaffected by the experiences in the Expanse, Lieutenant. I did not fail to notice that it — to use a phrase I have heard from the Captain — "unleashed many demons" in members of the crew that may otherwise have never surfaced."

"If I may say, it is gratifying to see how admirably you are dealing with yours," she said levelly.

T'Pol closed her eyes, not waiting for a response. Taking a deep breath, she said calmly, "Shall we begin?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Where do I begin?," Meara inhaled a long, deep breath as she took a seat and sat back in the chair opposite a still standing Hayes in Casey's office.

"General," said Admiral Forrest to his Starfleet counterpart. "Let's go grab a coffee while the Ambassador catches up the Major…"

Casey acquiesced. Both men were fully appraised of the situation that had brought Hayes here so their presence was largely unnecessary. Casey nodded at Hayes before closing the door behind them. "Don't forget about that beer, Hayes."

"Absolutely, Sir. Though you're buying," Matthew risked. Casey didn't hold back the chuckle. "The first round certainly, Major."

Matthew allowed himself to relax a little, now that the superiors were out of the room, and took a seat opposite Meara.

"I always find the beginning a good jumping off point, Ambassador," replied Hayes.

She nodded briskly. The new look had thrown him a bit, he thought, but even her attitude seems a little off its game. Well, whatever's up, it's serious enough to drag me off Enterprise back to Earth.

"It would be fair to tell you exactly why I hauled you so many light years away from your duties."

"Can't argue there," he replied.

"Your performance and that of the team under your leadership was nothing short incredible during the Xindi Mission, Major. It's safe to say that, although the loss of life was not within acceptable parameters, it would have been far worse were it not for your presence."

"You give m—," he started.

She raised her hand. "Not a compliment, Major. Just telling it like it is."

"Then of course, there was the extraction of Hoshi Sato from the Xindi weapon. That was enough to help me convince the powers-that-be you were the best person for this particular task. As THAT is exactly what is involved."

"The extraction of an asset?," he enquired. "Details of the assignment were scant."

"Necessary, I'm afraid. We're still trying to ascertain the extent of the infiltration of Terra Prime within Starfleet, but our primary task is to hopefully root it out at source."

Meara continued. "Since my return from the Enterprise mission, I took on the assignment to try and uncover who was at the heart of… my unwitting status as a bioweapon," she said wryly, shaking her head as she recollected, "to try and identify the wolf amongst the flock."

She rose from her chair and began to pace behind Casey's desk. "My face was well known in many official - and unofficial - circles of the Starfleet camp, hence the temporary facial reconstruction you see before you. I happily did it for the opportunity to get my hands on whoever's so damned determined to undermine everything Starfleet is trying to achieve."

She paused. "I was getting close. But frustratingly, at the time, I was closer than I actually realised. The other operative with whom I went undercover within Terra Prime has gone dark. I can't stress enough that he is one of the Section 31's most highly valued assets. He has access to information, highly sensitive information as you can imagine. We don't know if he's been discovered, though were that the case, we might expect to be feeling the repercussions already. The real fear is that he has been turned, which I don't need to tell you, Major, would spell disaster for all concerned. Whichever one of those scenarios proves to be true, you are here to covertly extract him if its the former, or failing that, to take him out if it proves to be the latter..."

Meara continued. "Starfleet wouldn't normally get embroiled in the goings on of Section 31, but given the damage done to the Qo'nos mission and the potential damage that could have been done through me, they saw fit to make an exception to the order of the day. Hence why you are sitting there now."

Matthew had been quietly listening, processing the information being imparted to him by Meara. He had no reason to question why he was here. Meara had requested it on behalf of Section 31 and Casey and Forrest had seen to it that her request was fulfilled. He was a soldier first and foremost. The chain of command was his lifeline and respecting it so as to protect the integrity of principles woven into every fibre of his being went without saying.

She looked at him. "It will be dangerous." He stood up from his chair, placed his hands behind his back and looked at her unflinchingly. "Neither you nor I are unfamiliar with the concept of danger, Ambassador. When do we start?"

She gave him an all-too-knowing smile. "Sometimes I think you positively relish it, Major. The danger…"

"Picked up on that, did you?"

"Well, anyone willing to go into a relationship with Malcolm Reed, eyes wide open, definitely enjoys taking their life into their own hands."

He allowed himself a small smile then. "It's bloody good to see you, Meara. Enterprise hasn't been the same since you left."

She looked at him piercingly then. "I imagine there's been quite a few changes since my visit…"

Meara smiled at the reaction her comment has elicited. "Well, that's another thing ticked off my bucket list."

He frowned. "What?"

"Raising a blush from behind that steely military reserve..."

He crossed his arms and gave her a humph. "Don't get used to it."


	9. Chapter 9

Kemper was sitting in his desk chair, bootless, legs stretched out straight while reading a PADD.

He looked up, with a frown, at the body sprawled across his bunk, that had moments ago, started snoring. He put down the PADD and glanced around for something to throw, settling for the socks he had recently discarded by his boots.

Chang shook himself awake with a start as they bounced off his face.

"For Christ's sake, Chang, don't you have a bunk of your own to monopolise? Some of us are trying to relax here and your air-polluting rumblings ain't helping any." The next bout of shore leave couldn't come quick enough as far as Kemper was concerned. Underneath the military shield of skin, even a MACO could stretch their human limitations only so far beyond their reach.

"Sorry Sarge," he mumbled, as he sat up stiffly. "Romero's doing a Romeo on some Ensign or other and asked me to give him some space for a couple of hours."

Kemper chuckled. "He better keep it in his pants then, 'cos if Mac finds out…"

Chang rubbed the back of his neck while stretching out his side. "Wouldn't mind if she did to be honest. Might take her mind of running the rest of us into the deck plating for five seconds and give us a bit of a breather." He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. "Thought space would freeze over before I found myself looking forward to the Major getting his ass back on board. I was fool enough to think this'd be like a mini-sabbatical…"

"You and me both," Kemper said, diverting his attention back to the PADD. "Not sure whether I'm gonna leap straight into his arms when he gets back, or toss him in an airlock for shoving that stick of authority up Mac's ass…"

* * *

Malcolm was in the Mess sharing a coffee with MacKenzie. As Head and temporary leader of their respective teams, Malcolm had insisted that they at least maintained the twice weekly meeting he and Matthew had established in recent months.

Never thought I'd see the day I'd be mediating on behalf of the MACOs, he thought to himself.

He hadn't failed to notice the rigorous training schedule MacKenzie had put together for the team, even adding to that already of Hayes well-established "there is no don't, because if you don't, you die" approach to getting the most out of subordinates. Though few more than Malcolm appreciated that a good team of soldiers relied on repetition and routine to be at its best, for the first time Malcolm found himself concerned that within the confines of Enterprise, such rigours might be taking their toll and prove to be detrimental in the long run. Even if that run was only two months without Hayes heading up the team.

"How's the MACO's routine holding up in the Major's absence, Corporal?," he asked as conversationally as he could manage.

"Very well, Sir," she replied.

"I have no wish to interfere, Corporal…." She eyed him from over her raised coffee mug. No, Lieutenant, she thought, that's exactly what you wish to do. Keep your cool, Mac, she said to herself.

"But many of your team have been most noticeable by their absence in recent days," he looked around the Mess as he spoke. "Some of the Security Staff have commented, particularly those who share the occasional meal together with some of the MACOs."

MacKenzie placed her mug on the table and folded her arms. Wonderful, thought Malcolm. I've barely spoken two sentences and already she's assumed the defence position.

"No rest for the wicked, Lieutenant. I thought I'd made myself clear at the initial session. I've no plans on letting down Major Hayes by letting the team lax off - or think they can lax off - while he's off board."

In that moment, Malcolm made a decision. "Quite right, Corporal," he replied, picking up his tea and leaning back in his seat.

MacKenzies' eyes narrowed. She knew that he was much more argumentative than this when it came to clash of command. She'd seen it firsthand in a couple of early altercations with Hayes. To see him back down so readily was more than surprising. It was downright suspicious.

She picked up her mug of coffee again and swirled the contents thoughtfully. She wasn't about to look the gift horse in the mouth of an amenable senior Starfleet officer though, so gave him the benefit of the doubt. For now…

* * *

Archer was looking at his Head of Security with the degree of skepticism he usually reserved for conversations with Vulcans, with the exception of his First Officer.

He said to Malcolm, "Don't you think encouraging a scenario, pitching Starfleet against MACO, might be prowling around territory where Angels fear to tread?"

Malcolm was standing in his usual adoptive pose while in the Captain's presence. "I am not suggesting that we immediately undertake the exercise, Captain. However, perhaps by the time we reach the next Minshara Class planet, there will be sufficient goodwill and camaraderie established to… let those Angels stretch their wings?"

Archer, who had been gazing out the porthole contemplating Malcolm's suggestion, looked back at him with a hint of mirth. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but Malcolm Reed seemed to have adopted a marginally more relaxed attitude in his Captain's presence lately. Archer could only wonder at when this welcome transition had occurred. He might have to ask T'Pol for some insights. The Vulcan was cagey, but highly observant when it came to Enterprise's crew.

"Let me think about it, Lieutenant."

"Of course, Captain. Thank you for at least hearing me out."

"No problem. You know I welcome any and all suggestions about how we can make life better for all the crew."

"Dismissed." Malcolm gave a curt nod and turned on his heel to exit the room.

Archer sat down at his desk and mused. In theory, Malcolm's theory had merit. It could be a fantastic team-building exercise but depended to a large degree on understanding and affinity between MACO and Fleet that he wasn't sure stood on solid enough ground. Yet anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

_While I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this story, I must admit it has definitely expanded beyond its original remit. So apologies for the erratically timed updates. I have no excuse. Still, I hope you are enjoying them as they come. Thanks for reading._

* * *

Matthew Hayes certainly didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, but nor did he go to great lengths to shroud himself in mystery. What you saw is what you got. Simple as. This was a distinct advantage in the reading of people as it gave him an upper hand. Having nothing to hide, he could almost instinctively conclude when someone did. He knew that Malcolm was hiding something intensely personal only time would uncover. He knew Meara was hiding something too. It hadn't been obvious on Enterprise as it was now. Though to be fair then, Matthew's attentions had been quite scattered at times.

When it came to cloak and dagger, he was certainly more the latter. Point him in the direction of his intended target and he would do what was needed to be done to complete the mission. Fortunately, in the case of this assignment, all the "cloak" had been taken care of by Meara and Section 31. All Matthew had to do was review the intel and develop a strategy of extraction. Espionage wasn't his thing so he was quite happy not to expose his mind to the twisted paths of logic required to tread in order to get the head around it.

"It took us some time to locate our "rogue" operative," Meara said.

"So that's confirmed intel? He's been turned by Terra Prime?," Matthew asked.

It was four days since Hayes' arrival back on Earth. Meara and Matthew were sharing dinner at his accommodation at the end of the a long day reading background and history on Terra Prime. With her adapted look and his unknown face, other restaurant patrons barely spared them a second glance. Within the confines of Starfleet, Hayes' team's part in the Xindi Crisis was revered and still held in high regard. Jonathan Archer had made acknowledgement of their contribution to its success one of his priorities. General Casey, however, was keen to keep the team low-key in the media, and attribute credit to the entire MACO team division itself, which Hayes had been incredibly grateful for. The last thing he'd wanted was himself or any of his team put forward for "Poster Soldier of the Year"…

Meara nodded in the affirmative. "Confirmed by an intercepted message. We thought he might have managed to hitch a ride off Earth but then we got hold of a coded message that was using one of the older Section 31 frequencies," she continued.

Matthew had been aware of the thorn in the side that was Terra Prime but they had never before factored in his world, only skirting round the edges of consciousness. It had been a throwback from a less enlightened age. But it seemed in recent times, the faction had begun to enjoy a resurgence, thanks in large part to the Xindi. Xenophobia was experiencing a rise in popularity in the darker, more concealed parts of Humanity and that posed a threat to Starfleet security. Anything that threatened Starfleet, threatened humanity's stability on this new galactic stage. With the millions of people who'd been affected by the loss of life, it was little wonder Terra Prime's popularity was on the rise. Come to think of it, he thought wryly, they'd probably consider Hayes himself an excellent candidate for recruitment given his loss at the weapon-wielding hands of the Xindi.

"Was that luck or systematic persistence?" Matthew asked interestedly.

Meara picked up her glass of wine and smiled, swirling the contents while looking a little pensive. "A bit of both, I suppose," she replied, before taking a sip.

He decided to broach the niggling feeling in his gut. "Is there something you're not telling me, Meara? About the assignment? About the target?"

If there was something, she was damn good at hiding the fact. "What makes you ask that?," she said coolly, placing her glass back on the table but keeping her hand resting on its base. Matthew would have considered such a posture as a fidget. He wondered if Augments had such tells. He didn't exactly have much experience of Meara's version of Human to go on.

He leaned forward. "I guess I value the opinion of my gut. It's kept my body and soul intact all these years so when it speaks I tend to give it my undivided attention."

"Very wise of you, Major," she looked at him with a slight tilt of her head, as though assessing the yet undiscovered layers of this devoted soldier. Uncompromising, unwavering in his perception of right and wrong within the parameters defined by his uniform. Meara wondered briefly what it would take to test that resolve. If all goes to plan, she thought as she raised her glass to her lips again, while not taking her eyes off Hayes, we'll find out soon enough. One way or another…

She leaned forward and extended an arm to rest her hand on one of his. "Do you trust me, Matthew?," she enquired plainly.

He glanced down at the intimate gesture. Sure, they had fallen asleep wrapped in each other's arms on Enterprise, but somehow, this seemed even more intimate than that.

"There are lots of degrees of trust, Meara," he said, holding her gaze unflinchingly while keeping his hand beneath hers. "I trust my team. I trust Casey to act in the best interests of the MACO division without compromising Starfleet. If I treat it right, I trust my weapon not to let me down in a firefight."

"But you don't trust me?," she said, leaning back and sliding her hand from beneath his own.

He shook his head. "I didn't say that. But if you look at the situation from my perspective, I'm just getting to know this version of you." Damn he's good, she thought.

He continued. "I had the honour of getting to know Meara Shaw - Ambassador and Ensign - on our first shared mission. This is a new version. And not that I'm shallow about these things, it's not really helped by the blonde hair and blue eyes…," he said with a wry smile as he leaned back himself, arms folded across his chest.

"You make a valid and altogether understandable point, Matthew," she nodded as she closed her eyes in agreement with his analysis.

She raised her glass. "So all I can do is offer a toast and hope that you will trust that I have at least the things I care about most at heart." Hayes raised his eyebrows briefly but ran with the suggestion anyway, raising his own glass in response.

"To getting to know this version of Meara Shaw, to a new appreciation of Matthew Hayes and to building on the trust forged on a Starship, a Starship on a mission destined for success helped all the more by the success of this one."

And though Hayes supped his wine, the niggling in his gut reminded him that when it comes to the art of espionage, the apparent simplicity of his own part in the mission would undoubtedly be offset by the actual complexity of its undercurrents. He reminded himself, though he had one job to do, he'd have to be prepared for the unknowns. And he was pretty sure from what he had learned so far, where Section 31 was involved, unknowns were part of the package as standard.


	11. Chapter 11

MacKenzie wasn't a happy soldier, and she was letting the gym punchbag make damn sure it knew about it. Such was the chain of command.

SLAM. PUNCH. PUNCH.

It was sometimes a challenge to respect said chain. It could make you feel as though you were hooked up to an anchor and barely able to keep your head above water, especially when your own methods for the good of the team were being called into question. Aboard this floating spacecan however, she was forced to respect that Lieutenant Reed was the caller of the shots.

SLAM. PUNCH. PUNCH. KICK!

Someday, she thought, I'm gonna get Hayes drunk and find out how the hell we ended up here. Better be for a damn good reason, she thought.

Lieutenant Reed had effectively pulled rank and called a halt to their training sessions for both Starfleet and the MACOs for one week. Effectively, Mac considered this an undue holiday. A break from the routine needed to keep a tactical team at their sharpest. But, she and her team were on board Enterprise. She'd wanted the team so eager for shore leave when it came around, it could have resulted in mutiny.

SLAM. PUNCH. PUNCH.

Her motives were driven in many directions, to be honest, but mostly, those motives involved living up to the expectations of Major Hayes. He reminded her so much of the Uncle that had inspired her to join the MACOs, it was all she could do not to treat him as such sometimes; run to him with every little insecurity she had felt in the past, every doubt she'd ever harboured about her own abilities. Uncle Jake had always been there for her, nurtured her true self rather than push her to conform as her parents had tried to do. He'd died so suddenly, a few months after she'd graduated, but at least they got to share that moment. It wasn't like her parents cared enough to show up.

PUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCHKICK.

So when she'd fallen under Hayes command, it was like there was a God and he (or she) had answered her prayers. He was pretty much everything she'd wanted in a superior officer and she had earned his trust with her loyalty time and time again. Not that his team weren't a tight-slotted Unit, but in some ways, MacKenzie knew that her own background forced her to stand out ever so slightly from the rest of the team.

PUNCH. PUNCH.

MacKenzie had given fleeting thought to the idea that Reed's actions may have had something to do with gender. That annoyingly British, Old Boy Network attitude seeping through the seams of his Starfleet uniform like ooze from a blocked pore of society. She was, however, fairly certain Reed was gay - or bisexual - so he wasn't wired to care about gender issues. His decisions on matters concerning security operations had nothing to do with the fact she was a woman. Still. It didn't mean she wasn't tempted to kick the crap out of him regardless. Aside for allowing her to let off some much pent up steam, that wouldn't achieve much other than a stint in the brig, courtesy of Captain Archer. Another kind of warfare might be more effective.

PUNCHPUNCHKICK *GRUNT*

What would Hayes do? What would Uncle Jake do?, she thought to herself, as she clutched the bag to her head.

Push the envelope.

She made the decision and walked up to the comm panel without hesitating. "MacKenzie to Captain Archer."

"Go ahead, Corporal."

"Captain. I'd like to request a meeting with you today if you have time?"

A slight pause. "I can make time, Corporal. My Ready Room at 1800?"

"Thank you, Sir. I'll see you then. MacKenzie out.

* * *

After reviewing the previous week's performance stats in weapons and combat training of the team, MacKenzie made her way to the Bridge and the Captain's Ready Room. She bumped into Chang and Rosenfeld on their way to the Mess as she was heading for the Turbolift.

"Enjoying the holiday, Corporal?" Chang. The guy never could resist poking the slumbering viper just to see what would happen. She'd let it slide this time with a jibe of her own.

"Well, it's given me plenty of time to catch up on my reading, Chang. MACO history can be enlightening stuff…," she said as she strolled between them. She knew Chang had an overactive imagination. Her response could mean anything, including finding out some juicy details about unit members' pasts.

She strolled off the Turbolift and headed towards the Captain's Ready Room, giving Sato a slight nod as she crossed the Bridge. The girl looked delicate but she was no wallflower, even if it was a lucky punch she landed that knocked Money off her feet. She also noted the distinct absence of Lieutenant Reed from the Tactical Station.

She buzzed for entry.

"COME!"

The door slid open to reveal the Captain sitting behind his desk and an impassive looking Lieutenant Reed, standing at ease opposite, looking over his shoulder as she entered the room. The sight of him caused her to hesitate for a split second and while the Captain hadn't noticed, too late to correct herself, she caught the ' _not expecting to see me, were you, Corporal?'_ look on Reed's face. Dammit.

Archer looked up as he handed one of the PADD's in front of him back to Reed.

"Hello Corporal. Hope you don't mind, I invited the Lieutenant to join us given that your responsibilities to the ship overlap so closely. It made sense that he would be aware of anything that you and I conversed about regarding security on Enterprise. I hope you agree?"

Well, actually no. She didn't.

"Of course, Sir. It was remise of me not to think to include Lieutenant Reed in the first place."

Archer smiled. He had asked T'Pol - as an objective party - to keep an eye on MACO/Fleeter interactions in the absence of Hayes. He'd learned enough from his previous mistakes not to allow history to repeat itself at least where it could be avoided. While the status quo had been maintained since Reed and Hayes had found mutual footing, Archer understood enough to know that changes in the chain of command always started out unsteadily and the last thing he wanted was a repeat performance of the Reed/Hayes "Rumble in the Space Jungle."

He sat back in his chair and looked at the officers standing side by side in perfect military poses.

"Now. What was it you wished to discuss, Corporal?"


	12. Chapter 12

The rain was soft but not unwelcome. The feel of it on his face reminded him that the ground beneath his feet was not deck plating and he wasn't floating in endless space. Matthew Hayes was walking down a San Francisco side street, heading for a little-known haunt frequented by those who dealt in information, sometimes for their own benefit but usually for the benefit of the higher powers to whom they answered.

"Shaw to Hayes."

"Hayes here."

"How're you doing, Major?"

That could be considered a loaded question given all that had happened to centre him at this moment in time. He'd always maintained a degree of dispassionate objectivity about all things. Bonds of any kind were hard-won with Matthew Hayes, unless they were of a professional ilk. But the Xindi Crisis and the attack on Earth, his personal loss, his discovery of the real heart hidden beneath the armour of Malcolm Reed had led to some serious re-evaluation of his perspective in the last year. Ready acceptance of this mission without a second thought was proof positive of that.

"Hard to say at the moment. Had I known part of this mission was going to involve using me to lure the target, I would have brought along some nicer underwear from Enterprise."

Meara's chuckle came softly through his earpiece. "Sorry about keeping that from you. Didn't give it a second thought that it might make you uncomfortable but you seem to be taking it all in your stride, Major. I know this man and I know what he likes. The more off-guard he is in your presence, the easier it will be to earn his trust."

A few minutes later, Matthew arrived at the door of the establishment. He paused and took a breath. Mom would be so proud, he thought to himself, before pushing the entrance open. A few pairs of curious eyes focussed their attention on him as he walked in, one or two women shamelessly giving his body the once over before returning their regard to their mark for the evening.

Bars of any description could not be called a favoured indulgence of Matthew Hayes, and he certainly didn't make a habit of frequenting them on his own like some second rate pickup artist. He had a fleeting thought that Malcolm would be much more familiar with that kind of thing, judging by his prior activities with Commander Tucker, and smiled inwardly at the thought of seeing his former nemesis again. Anyway, back in the room, Matthew… The mission beckons and he was nothing if not adaptable. He casually stepped up to the bar and ordered a whiskey.

Meara's voice penetrated his brain. "We have eyes on target. About five minutes out from your location." Matthew cleared his throat to acknowledge her message before knocking back his drink and ordering another.

He could feel a set of eyes targeted on his own back and resisted the urge to turn around as he sipped his second drink. He tamped down his reactionary instincts, grounding himself with a conscious reminder of where he was. Good thing I did, he thought, as a soft, warm hand, touched his forearm without warning.

"Hello there, stranger. It's customary for the new boy in town to buy this girl a drink," she said smoothly. She was very attractive - relative to the seediness of the location.

He gave her his warmest smile and opted for a less barbed rejection than he actually felt like doling out.

"I'm very flattered, Ma'am, but…"

She frowned then. "Ma'am? Do I look like your mother?" She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered in his ear. "Or are you from soldiering stock?"

Deadpan. Matthew Hayes most well-rehearsed facial expression. He'd had practice enough training it in the presence of Enterprise's Head of Security.

He leaned down. "My Mother was the most beautiful woman I've ever known", he whispered back. "No other woman could live up to her. So my…. personal interests lean in other directions…" He sipped his drink before meeting her gaze again. "I hope you understand it's nothing personal."

She stared for a moment. "Mmmm…. What a waste…," she said before gliding away, giving him a predatory look while running her hand along his shoulder blade and down his back as she retreated.

Matthew rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "Just wait until I tell Malcolm…" He jerked slightly, almost forgetting for a split second about the presence of Meara in his ear, listening quietly to the exchange.

"Here we go," she said, a few heartbeats later, as the door behind him swung open.

Matthew had adopted a casual lean, his elbows on the surface of the bar in front of him, waiting for the approach. He looked down to see smooth and manicured hand come to rest on the counter of the bar. "A shot of your private reserve, Mike."

A glass appeared and the barman filled it with the contents of an emerald green bottle. It disappeared and reappeared empty. Matthew sensed his target's gaze re-directed towards him. "Care to join me?"

He looked at him then. Tall and auburn-haired, the man possessed a steely look that told Matthew he had seen too much and lost a few things of his own along the way, though perhaps not as much as a Starfleet officer or a MACO assigned to a space mission. Matthew's eyes were drawn briefly to the edge of a tattoo, peeking over the edge of his shirt collar. He couldn't be certain what it was though.

"Sure," said Matthew raising his drained glass to his new acquaintance.

"Let's sit," he said with a tilt of his head, moving away from the bar with their replenished glasses to lead Matthew towards a dark corner of the room.

"You come highly recommended, Marcus," he stated directly as he sat.

No small talk with this one, Matthew thought.

"I do what I'm paid to do and don't ask questions," he replied steadily.

"And that's all we ask." He looked at him appraisingly, a hint of admiration creeping into his eyes. Matthew mirrored the look.

Matthew leaned forward to play the game. "And while I'm not adverse to mixing business with pleasure, I always put business first."

A conciliatory nod and a lecherous smirk was his response as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope.

"Old fashioned methods we usually find are the securest." He slid the envelope towards Matthew who took it without hesitation and slid it into his own jacket pocket.

His target drained his glass and stood. "Nice to meet you, Marcus. I hope I'll have the pleasure again."

"We can hope," Matthew said as he drained his own glass without looking at the man.

He walked out the door without a second glance. Matthew took a deep, steadying breath.

The voice in his ear chimed in. "Anyone ever told you you're surprisingly natural at this stuff, Major?"

No one could be more surprised than me right now, he thought.

He walked out the entrance to the bar and let it shut behind him, glancing around before he broke his silence. "I can only conclude you're a very bad influence on me, Ambassador…"


	13. Chapter 13

It was late evening at the Vulcan Consulate. V'Ral was tired. Though he did not require extensive hours of sleep while on his homeworld, he did find life on Earth quite draining, not simply day-to-day living on the planet, but Humans themselves being so emotionally demanding. Perhaps I am too old for these diplomatic expeditions, he considered, as he switched off his desktop console and donned his robe. The unsettled times brought on by the Xindi attack on Earth however, had made additional demands of both Earth's and Vulcan's governments, the need to freshly reforge their alliance in the eyes of other galactic interplayers and reinforce the sense of stability in the sector.

He nodded to his young aide as he exited his office to retire to his nearby apartment. Younger Vulcans would be more adaptable though perhaps more corruptible compared to their more experienced elders. Blessed with youth, cursed by inexperience, he thought. Coupled with the fresh Age of Enlightenment as a result of the unearthing of the Kir'Shara, V'Ral knew that Vulcan would need to steady itself in the upheavals that would accompany the times ahead.

His driver was waiting for him on the steps of the entrance of the building. "If you have no objection, T'Sav, as it is a pleasant enough night, I would find it agreeable to walk to my residence."

T'Sav nodded. "If you are sure, Ambassador. As long as you check in with your aide when you arrive home I do not see a problem."

"Please come by an hour earlier in the morning. I have a breakfast appointment with Soval."

"Of course, Ambassador. Goodnight."

"Rest well, T'Sav. I shall see you in the morning."

As he strolled at an easy but consistent pace, he took modest relief in the warmth of this particular summer night in San Francisco, a pleasant respite from the frequent rain that visited the City, being in such close proximity to the sea. The sea… Such a departure from the dry, untainted heat of Vulcan. A vast, bottomless and dangerous force. That train of contemplation brought him to his brilliant and equally unfathomable protégé, Meara Shaw. He had reluctantly taken on her training on Vulcan at the behest of Soval, his respect for the Ambassador's experience on Earth and his longterm dealings with humans leading to the logical conclusion of agreeing to his proposal. She demonstrated the true and yet to be tapped potential of humanity, perhaps generations into the future, but the potential was there nonetheless. It gave some Vulcans cause for concern, but V'Ral recognised the need to embrace and understand such things at the point of conception, so the subsequent development of the embryonic potential could be better observed and nurtured. The elemental opportunity to explore, nurture and guide where feasible that potential, had been assigned to him. Despite his initial reservations, even he had come to appreciate how fascinating a being was this intelligent step in the Universe's evolution.

The street was deserted, unusually serene for the normally bustling city. V'Ral saw no reason to complain. His thoughts turned again to Meara Shaw. Augment, anomaly, accomplished but incomplete. They had met shortly after his own arrival on the planet. She looked agreeable, recounting her mission to Quo'nos and the series of events that had resulted in its failure. He had found her revelations somewhat disquieting. If extensive years of experience had taught V'Ral anything of significance, it was to look beyond the immediacy of the event and into the invisible spectrum of other events occurring on the periphery out of direct line of sight. If his suspicions were correct, then the course of action they were about to take was not only prudent but necessary.

* * *

It was dark from his vantage point. At least it wasn't raining. Small mercies for creatures of the night. Well. When the hell else are you going to mount a covert operation except under the cover of darkness?

It wasn't an oppressive darkness though. It was comforting. He was part of it, free to move unseen in the shadows. The dark protected when it recognised a co-conspirator as one of its own. The successful stalking of prey relied on a quiet and reliable ally. The dark was always both if you respected it. He recalled his training, the natural aptitude he had demonstrated as a sniper had been something he considered a bonus talent. Plus he had always been comfortable handling vintage weapons. Respecting and understanding items of deadly force regardless of where in time and space they originated from was the only way to survive them. He had a small collection of his own in fact. Never was his gift for sharpshooting a talent he thought he would be employing under these circumstances, about to take down an alien diplomat for no other reason than being an alien life-form on Earth was offensive to the people who had paid him to fulfil the task.

He didn't have to wait long. Right on time, his quarry rounded the corner of the final block leading to his apartment. The Vulcan paused and half-turned, directly under the light cast from the building alongside which he stood, as though listening for something. He trained the crosshairs of the rifle's sight on his target. I hope to hell your trust is well placed Meara, he thought, because if this goes South, we're all going to Hell. He took a breath and held, the steady beat of his heart his only companion in sound. He squeezed the trigger just as V'Ral began to move forward. A silent pulse preceded the Vulcan crumpling to the ground. He heard a woman scream as he moved deftly to dismantle and stow the weapon in his holdall.

A few minutes later, the unmistakeable silhouette of Matthew Hayes walked unseen through quiet streets that would soon become the scene of a crime for which no one would ever be brought to task.


	14. Chapter 14

As ever, the company was easy to embrace. Archer and T'Pol were sharing a quiet dinner in the Captain's Mess. He had lived in his bubble of solitude during the tougher times serving Starfleet, resisting the presence of others having found his own company so distasteful. Now, slowly but surely, he was feeling more comfortable in his own skin. As his own company became easier to bear, so too again did that of those he had almost lost as friends. He felt he was rediscovering them anew. War changes people, scars them. Friendships rediscovered go a long way towards healing those scars…

He glanced up at her, mediative in her consumption of food as she was in most everything she did. He allowed himself a little smile as he was struck by the scene they occupied, framed from an outsider's perspective. He had suddenly become his father, looking in. _Proud? Or perplexed maybe, Dad?_ Archer thought. _Let's split the difference and say both,_ replied the inner monologue. It seemed despite his absence, Archer's relationship with the influence of his father was not beyond evolving as well.

As ever, in these informal situations, Archer took the opportunity to tap T'Pol's objective and clinical observational capabilities on evolving relationships of his crew.

"So, T'Pol. Trip tells me you're conducting… sessions…? with Malcolm?"

T'Pol looked up, poised in mid-chew of a mouthful of her meal. She took her time completing that task, before placing her fork down and wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"It would appear the ship's "grapevine," to which I have heard Hoshi refer it, is finding a path under the door of the First Officer's quarters," she replied stoically.

Archer smiled into his glass of water. "Sorry, T'Pol. It was just a casual enquiry, not as Captain."

"Then I shall casually respond in kind, Captain. Commander Tucker would do well to concentrate his talents more on improving the Warp Drive capacity of this vessel, rather than the speed at which he induces idle gossip to travel around it."

Archer laughed out loud at that and shook his head. He adored the light, if unintentional comedic relief T'Pol sometimes provided. He was starting to suspect that she was actively honing her sense of humour. Not that he would do anything to discourage it.

"I'll pass that on," he said, through his waning chuckles. "Anything to feedback regarding the change in command structure of the MACOs and if it's having any knock on effect on Malcolm's department?"

"From what I can ascertain, the status quo remains intact. Corporal MacKenzie's only flaw could possibly be her over-enthusiasm to prove her leadership qualities. But given her youth, such is an understandable response to the burden of command. I assume you have spoken to Lieutenant Reed directly?"

"I have, replied Archer. He has come up with an interesting idea for our next encounter with a Minshara planet, conditions permitting."

"Oh? May I enquire as to the nature of this idea?"

"Malcolm seems to think after having bonded in adversity and shared experiences in the Expanse, there should be an equal, balancing bond forged under more positive conditions."

"Interesting…" said T'Pol. Archer's eyes narrowed slightly. T'Pol was not as Vulcanly unreadable as she may think, at least not around me, thought Archer.

"Would this have anything to do with your… sessions, T'Pol?"

She regarded her Commanding Officer coolly as she sipped her water. "For the moment, Captain, I consider it prudent that the grapevine remain in the corridor, on the other side of my door."

* * *

Sato was cleaning them out. She didn't consider herself a proficient poker player by any stretch of the imagination, but when the MACOs were relaxed, their guard down and there wasn't the immediate threat of having your head blown off by alien weaponry, they were surprisingly easy to read. Not that they needed to know she was employing her communication skills to study and interpret their body language.

"Straight. Queen high."

"Dammit! How is she doing that?!" Chang huffed frustratingly as he leaned back, folding his arms. Sato had called his bluff once again, and once again he had lucked out.

Kemper couldn't help but admire her skill. Sato caught him looking at her and allowed a small blush at the attention to creep into her cheeks.

"Maybe one day, I'll let you in on my secret, Corporal," she said as she gathered the dealt cards back into the deck.

"Oh yeah?," Chang leaned forward like an enthusiastic schoolboy. "Like when?"

"How about the day of Enterprise's decommission?"

Kemper and Money gave an appreciative laugh at that, while Cole just smiled at his petulence, as Chang resumed his huffy pose. Sato was enjoying herself immensely. Being permitted to see the MACOs in a relaxed frame of mind, behind the rigid mask of military discipline was a real pleasure. It had been tough at first, the clash of personalities between Major Hayes and their Head of Security being a confounding factor in the friction, but experience in conflict had torn away all the pretence of division, and bonding in battle had gone a long way to forging a new path forward. She wouldn't be here now, still enjoying their mission of exploration, were it not for Major Hayes. In fact, she'd had to work damn hard against succumbing to White Knight Syndrome. Hayes' cool professionalism had been a big factor in laying that potential demon to rest. She had been incredibly frustrated by Malcolm's continued and stubborn attitude of distrust towards him, but was glad to see that had subsided, through a rediscovered bond with a mysterious part of his past in the shape of Meara Shaw. Sato had been happy that someone had finally gotten through that thick-skulled Limey brain of his. Adore his loyalty to friends and admire his dedication to Enterprise she might, but damn if he didn't need a good shake sometimes, she thought affectionately.

The comm beeped as she was in the midst of dealing out another hand. "MacKenzie to Kemper."

Aware of the presence of Sato, Kemper raised the MACO shielded expression and went to answer the comm. "Kemper here, Sir."

"Let the team know the Honeymoon's over. 0500 in the gym to resume training."

"Of course, Sir. Kemper out."

Sato sensed the mood shift and the time had come to call it a night. "Well," she said with a sympathetic smile, "looks like you'll all need your beauty sleep tonight."

She headed for the door where Kemper was standing. He pushed the button to open it for her.

"Goodnight, Hoshi." She nodded to him and the rest of the table occupants. " 'Night, all."

As the door closed behind her, Chang sighed and stood. "Times like this I wish I could remove my balls and keep them safe in a jar hidden from MacKenzie…"


	15. Chapter 15

His adrenaline levels were still pumping high enough to rupture capillaries. Awareness of his surroundings were on such nerve-tingling alert, he was sure he could hear the small creatures of the night shuffling through the underbelly of the city, unseen. At least he knew he wasn't being followed. The outer façade radiating a calm that came with years of self-imposed control, overlay the thumping of a heart Hayes was sure would burst out of his chest at any moment. As he made his way back to his accommodation, he was finding it difficult to separate the sheer thrill in what he had just participated, from the fear of being caught in the act.

It had been a long time gone since he had taken down quarry in the way he just had and even then, it was only during the intense psychological and physical training periods required to prove your mettle for a place amongst the MACOs. He recalled those training grounds now, as he walked confidently without pause through the silent darkness towards his destination. Days spent surviving a brutal urban terrain, moving amongst derelict buildings dedicated to the post-apocalyptic horror of the not-so-distant past. These monuments served as a memory of what soldiers once endured in the part they played to bring Humanity out of the rubble, and an everlasting reminder of how easy it is for Humanity to crumble when held firm in the grasp of ignorance and fear.

As he deposited his holdall at the designated spot en route, he heard a siren and looked up to see a shuttlecraft glide quickly above the surrounding high rise buildings, certainly on its way to deal with the fallen Vulcan diplomat. There would be nothing in the news. It would be squashed firmly into the darkest corners of the political landscape. Such a scandalous attack on our closest alien allies would rock the foundations of diplomatic relations between the two worlds.

But then, that wasn't the point of the exercise.

The point, was to prove Matthew Hayes, aka Marcus Turner, was a reliable mercenary in the war against our alien overlords, coming to Earth to steal our women and annex our world… Matthew shook his head imperceptibly at the thought. Of course, there were risks with venturing into the big, bad Galaxy. But there were risks that came with getting out of bed in the morning, when crossing a street, with falling in love. Everyday living was a damn risk, and life without risk was nothing more than existence.

But the risks that came with expanding our horizons beyond landing on the moon and a manned mission to Mars were worth it as far as Matthew was concerned. Despite his own losses, Humanity's curiosity and thirst for knowledge would take it places it deserved to go. Kinda hope the little he had learned during his stint in Tibet about saṃsāra was true. He'd quite like to see more of what was in store for Humanity…

Before he knew it, Matthew was at his entrance to his building. He gave the building's attendant a courteous nod and smile, applying the right pitch of tipsiness to his greeting like a man just in from an enjoyable evening out with a few friends. The attendant barely gave him a second glance. If there's one thing Matthew Hayes was good at, it was inconspicuousness. He didn't need MACO fatigues to blend into the background when the situation demanded.

On reaching his floor, he exited the elevator into the dimly-lit corridor and rounded the corner to enter his room. While he had just committed what could only be considered by any decent-minded human being as an atrocity, he felt more relaxed after his walk and now ensconced in the relative safety of the building. Still, he should have known better than to drop his guard at all. No sooner had the door shut behind him and just before the autolights came on, Matthew felt strong hands shove him in the back. Face against the wall by the door, only a microsecond passed before a body as strong as his own had him against it. He felt the tip of weapon poke his neck and immediately ceased struggling against the hold.

"That's it, Marcus. Calm down. No need to get all riled up." The hold was released as his assailant stepped back and Matthew turned to face the intruder. "Apologies for the greeting," said his auburn-haired contact from the bar, "but having seen you in action tonight, I thought you might be fairly keyed up and do something we both might regret. So I took it upon myself to get the upper hand first. Our paranoia can be a blessing and a curse, don't you agree?"

He held out his hand. "My name is Richard." Matthew looked at the proffered limb and took it tentatively.

"Quite an impressive display out there tonight. You've certainly earned your place at the table."

Matthew calmly walked to the sink to get a glass of water. "Like I said, I do what I'm paid to do…"

"And don't ask questions," finished Richard. "If you don't have anything stronger, can I have one of those?"

Matthew handed him his own filled glass across the counter and filled another for himself.

"Well, you can ask a question now if you want, Marcus?" Judging from his body language, Matthew had concluded fairly quickly that his display had satisfied the powers whose attention he had been assigned to attract. That said, as he watched Richard sipping his water, Matthew could sense another kind of attraction simmering beneath the surface that he had made very clear to Matthew during their first meeting. Matthew was quickly calculating scenarios that would get him out of the situation with minimal fuss and zero offence to his new ally.

"Only one," Matthew said, as he moved from behind the counter. "When can I meet him?"

There was a game to be played here. Matthew knew the card he had to deal.

Richard placed his glass on the counter and moved to grab Matthew's wrist as he passed. "You'll meet him if I say you can meet him." The look in his eye told Matthew what he needed to do to get what he wanted out of the exchange and move to the next phase. He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and hauled him into a bruising kiss. Richard just started to respond when Matthew pulled away. He leaned close to Richard's ear.

"I thought I'd made myself clear." He released his hold and stepped back. "Pleasure before business complicates matters."

Richard had the decency to remember to be professional - if you could consider those in the employ of Terra Prime as professional - despite his rising arousal.

He straightened his jacket and moved towards the door, pausing close by Matthew's shoulder as he passed. "I'll be in touch." And with that he left, Matthew immediately moving to lock it behind him.

Yup, he thought as he slumped on the sofa. Definitely more comfortable with the dagger than the cloak…

A few minutes passed as he allowed a mild meditative state to pervade his mind. The intensity of events and his adrenaline-fuelled comedown were lulling him to sleep. Just then, the secure comm unit given to him by Meera beeped.

"Well done, Major," Meera said quietly.

"What now?," he breathed tiredly.

"Now, we wait. Though I doubt we'll have to wait long."


	16. Chapter 16

"Christ!," heaved Rosenfeld. "I'm gonna need another damn week to heal my body from that!"

He, Romero and Chang had hit the gym showers immediately after MacKenzie had dismissed them from their early morning training session.

Romero wasn't in a much better state. "Tell me about it," he muttered from his cubicle through the stream of water, doing what it could to ease the all-over body ache he was currently feeling. "I've never regretted a 6-day hiatus from our training regime more than I do right now. And it wasn't even like we slacked off completely. Still did a daily in the gym…"

"The woman's a goddam sadist," said Chang. "Six decks. SIX!"

"Yeah. The two-up one-down idea was a stroke of evil genius. Hayes'd be proud. Speaking of, when does that deserting son-of-a-bitch get back from assignment?," asked Rosenfeld as he soap massaged his aching thighs.

Kemper walked in that moment. "Talking about the Major while soaping yourself down, Rosenfeld? I'm sure he'd be really flattered," he said through a sarcastic grin.

Chang piped in through a grimace as he stretched his back. "Oh I don't know, Sarge. I reckon the Major could do a lot worse."

"You mean like your sorry ass, Chang?," countered Rosenfeld as he switched off the shower and grabbed his towel from the railing.

"I've got stallion-like stamina, I'll have you know," said Chang.

"That a fact? MacKenzie's left you a quivering mess of jellied muscle. Hayes is far too much MACO for you to handle…"

The sound of Tactical Alert cut through their shared laughter.

"Shit!," groaned Romero. "Days of nothing floating about in this tin can, and now? NOW we get some action?!"

* * *

"There it is again, Captain," Travis said. "It's like the stars are shifting."

"T'Pol? Any insights on what we're seeing? What the cause might be?," asked Archer.

"The effect is reminiscent of the anomalies we encountered in the Expanse, Captain. Though there is no record of any such spatial anomalies recorded in this sector."

"Well, we are a vessel of firsts," heaved Archer, turning his attention back to the viewscreen. Though it'd be nice if the more friendly firsts outbalanced the not so friendly ones for a change, he thought ruefully to himself.

Archer perched his body down on the edge of his chair. "Maintain tactical alert and keep scanning. If experience has taught this crew anything its that the dull days in space are more than compensated by the little surprise gifts it sends our way on occasion. This could well be one of those occasions."

The comm beeped. "Phlox to Sub-Commander T'Pol. Apologies to disturb you on duty, but could you join me in Sickbay? I require your, er, scientific expertise."

T'Pol considered the request impassively. The timing was odd to say the least. "Can this wait please, Doctor? There are rather more immediately pressing matters to deal with on the Bridge."

"I cannot be sure without further analysis but I think my findings may significantly impact on many future pressing matters encountered by Enterprise…"

Archer turned to her. "Go T'Pol. See what the Doctor needs. I know where to find you. There is no immediate threat. Yet," he finished before returning his attention to his console scan data.

* * *

Within minutes, T'Pol entered Sickbay, giving a curt nod to Corporal Chang who was stationed just outside the door while the Tactical Alert was still in place.

"Doctor."

"Ah, Sub-Commander. Thank you for coming so quickly. This will only take a moment but I thought you should be aware of something that has come to light in the further study of our Augment's silent but deadly passenger."

T'Pol tilted her head with an accompanying look of mild curiosity.

"Ambassador Shaw. You are still studying the biometrics of her virus?"

He allowed his usual smile to grace his features. "I would be remise in my duty to both medicine and science were I not to peel back every apparent layer of mystery laid before me."

"Quite, Doctor. What was it you wished to share?"

He proffered a hand, towards his scanner. "This. On studying more closely the DNA markers of the virus, I discovered something quite unexpected."

He then brought up a template of three primer sequences and overlaid them with that of three others in his medical database. "It appears that there are commonalities to be found between the DNA of the virus, and that unique to… Vulcan DNA…"

That elicited a surprised expression from T'Pol. "That, Doctor, is… illogical…"

"I am certain, T'Pol, I've checked and re-checked my findings. Improbable it may seem, but I assure you, the results are verified."

T'Pol heaved a sigh. "Doctor. May I impose on your discretion until the current situation is resolved and I've had adequate time to brief and discuss your findings with the Captain?"

A nod. "Of course, Sub-Commander."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said as she turned to exit Sickbay.

* * *

T'Pol headed for the Turbolift to return to the Bridge, her mind reeling with Phlox's revelations. She was old enough and experienced enough to know that there was something much larger at play in this scenario and Meara Shaw's involvement was only a small piece of the complex puzzle currently scattered across her mind. She took a calming breath. She would brief Captain Archer and assess the situation. His perspective was narrower than hers, but his ability to focus on the detail could well bring some aspects of this odd development to light. Momentarily distracted by her train of thought, as she turned the final corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. She found herself greeted by the sight of three Orions, one of them leaning down to rifle the uniform of the two stunned unconscious MACOs lying in a heap on the floor, obviously taken by surprise by the intruders.

She suddenly became the focus of the other two aliens, who were watching both ends of the adjoining corridors, and their very unwelcome attentions. "There she is!," one of them shouted. "Grab her!"

T'Pol, unarmed and outnumbered, backed away and turned to run. The shock of the stun blast hitting her back was the last thing she felt before she hit the deck.


	17. Chapter 17

Meara was right. They didn't have to wait long.

In the aftermath, of killing a Vulcan diplomat - whatever reasons may lie behind such a heinous act - it can hardly be a surprise to experience a shallow slumber. It wasn't like Matthew was a heavy sleeper at the best of times anyway. It took any body, regardless of training and discipline, time to adjust to any new routine. Be it life on a Starship, or the occasional sound in the dark of the slow, even breath of a certain Lieutenant when the rare but welcome event came around. It had taken his body rhythms about two weeks to adjust to life on Enterprise, the steady, silent hum of a Starship and the bodies that moved around its bowels, keeping things ticking over. Even longer to adjust psychologically to his soldier counterpart. But he did. And he got better at it over time. Practice makes perfect, he thought to himself.

He felt the air shift silently around him from his bed. He opened one eye a fraction, keeping his breathing even, to watch the shadow approach. He'd half expected this kind of cloak-and-dagger play from Terra Prime. Theatrics with the aim of instilling fear. The least he could do was put on a mutually good show.

He slipped his hand smoothly under his pillow as though adjusting his sleeping position, and gripped the butt of his pistol. He rolled over in one smooth move to face his intruder and found himself staring at the mouth of a similar weapon a few inches from his face. He lowered his first, placing it on the floor, having little choice being in such a vulnerable position. Keeping his weapon hand raised, he shuffled up the bed to lean against the wall behind him.

The silhouetted outline standing in the framed dim light pouring through the window was easily recognisable to the trained eye of Hayes.

"Hello Richard. You make a habit of breaking into assassins bedrooms in the dead hours of morning?"

He tore off his hood and cast a sly smile at Matthew. "My associates are keen to get to know you better so sent me to bring you along for a meet and greet sooner rather than later. Can't say I blame them from where I'm standing," he murmured.

Matthew debated. A display of confidence in front of this guy might well earn him a few points in the short run. He seemed slightly deprived. No harm in feeding his enthusiasm a little.

He threw back the covers and stood in front of the operative, shameless and confident in his nakedness. He pushed past him towards a drawer to grab some fresh clothes. Richard had obviously learned his lesson from their previous interaction, keeping his face impassive as he took in the sight. Richard continued. "And of course, since our background checks revealed the extent of your losses during the attack that ripped a hole in our planet, you became an even more attractive proposition."

The eyes, however, can never hide the truths that lurk in the mind, Matthew noted with mild satisfaction, keeping his eyes on the man while he pulled on his trousers and sweater.

"Terra Prime can certainly use someone in possession of your… talents and tribulations in its ranks."

The underlying tone wasn't lost on Hayes as he sat down to pull on his boots. He stood in front of Richard. "So, are we doing this?"

Richard pulled a black cloth sack from inside his jacket.

Matthew couldn't help rolling eyes. "You want me to wear that? Seriously?" These guys were obviously getting hints and tips from watching too many 20th century espionage movies.

* * *

They climbed into the flitter waiting for them outside his apartment block before Richard tossed the sack accompanied by a "no arguments" expression at him. Now he was in the company of another associate piloting the transport, whom Richard had introduced as "need to know, Marcus and you don't need to know", his personality flipped into the tough and uncompromising cliché Hayes had been expecting and with which he was frankly more comfortable. At least, he knew where he stood with that. He'd certainly had enough practice of said on Enterprise. As they departed, Matthew gave him an appropriate enough frown and obligingly pulled the sack over his head.

Ten minutes later, they came to land outside a deserted building on the outskirts of the city. Such places were relics of the old world. Some things were built to last, and a reminder of that fact was good for those who doubted the resilience the human species, despite our recent foray into the galaxy. Successes and failures. Towering achievements and crumbling dreams. It was somewhat ironic that one of Terra Prime's base of operations would be housed in such a place.

Matthew remained in the dark until they were well inside the building. He was guided through a body scanner to check for any concealed weapons or other electronic devices before they progressed further. Meara had warned him he would be on his own for this phase of the mission so no comforting Irish lilting words in his ear now. He felt himself flanked with a firm grip on one upper arm by Richard as they entered an elevator that began a short descend beneath the building. The cloth covering his face was removed once they came to a halt and exited, straight into a sparsely decorated and furnished room. No illusions of home comfort here.

He stepped out of the small space but his escort hung back.

"Not joining us?," Matthew queried.

"No. They want the pleasure of meeting you alone in the first instance," came Richard's reply. "I've no doubt you'll get on famously."

Matthew wasn't quite sure what to make of that remark and creased his brow as the door slid shut, leaving him alone in a space about twice the size of Archer's Ready Room. For the briefest moment, he suddenly felt very alone, in this underground, deafeningly silent room, amongst those who could be considered an enemy as dangerous as any hostile alien Starfleet or the MACOs had faced in the expanse of space.

He wasn't left to his own musings for long before the thorn in the side of Starfleet Intelligence deigned to make an appearance. It was a good thing for Hayes that he possessed an exceptional presence of mind when they did.


	18. Chapter 18

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY FIRST OFFICER?!" Archer knew anger wouldn't achieve anything but he couldn't help it spilling over.

T'Pol had vanished from the ship and with nothing to go on, little sensor data of any kind, his frustration was palpable. Malcolm had seen many shapes and forms of Archer's personality and he had adapted accordingly as best he could to the manifestation of each. The entire crew was forced to do so as they witnessed his transformation in the Expanse, understanding that each of them were going through something similar in their own unique way. But in the Expanse, Archer had prepared himself for the worst of anything space could throw at him. When he's caught so completely off guard, the Universe goes into a tailspin. The Expanse may have been a costly learning curve, but it had been a useful one.

Archer took a breath and pinched the bridge of nose in an attempt to calm the ragged tempest swirling through his heart and lungs. He turns to the two people - aside from himself - he held accountable for this particular maelstrom.

Reed and Mackenzie stood across from him on the other side of his Ready Room desk.

He could tell from Malcolm's face that he was calculating the situation with his usual keen sense of precision, while Mackenzie's features held a barely detectable bewildered expression.

"I want an explanation and I want it NOW," he stated levelly, eyes searching between the two of them. "Lieutenant. Report."

Mackenzie was certain he was going to take her to task. She felt she was about to witness any hope of future command take a one-way Warp speed ticket out of there. More disheartening, was meeting the disappointment of Hayes for her part in allowing such an incident to come to fruition after placing such trust in her abilities. That thought stung even more sharply.

Malcolm stood solid, stoical and responded with no hint of emotion. "Captain. I've reviewed the sensor logs before, during and after the seizing of the Sub-Commander. With the exception of a small energy fluctuation 5000 metres off our port bow immediately before and after they beamed aboard Enterprise, there was nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary."

"Anything familiar about the energy signature?," Archer asked.

"Nothing in our data banks, Sir, but I'm having Hoshi investigate the pattern further for anything that might shed some light. Perhaps something that at one time that may have been considered having little importance other than an ordinary encounter on our mission could now have significance."

Archer turned to Mackenzie. He tried to keep his expression neutral but it was barely suppressed. 'I really want someone to blame for this right now,' he thought to himself. Sometimes, he was all too aware of how much T'Pol meant to him and his ship. It was difficult to keep the impartiality required of a leader in this brave, new galaxies of worlds where someone without whom he knows he wouldn't have made it beyond their first mission to the Klingon home world was concerned.

"Corporal?," he began. "Mind telling me what your men were doing lying a heap while my First Officer was being spirited off Enterprise?"

Malcolm could almost feel the trepidation radiating from her. There was little in this situation he could do to help. He had advised, she had ignored, thinking she understood Hayes' demands of her. This was her moment to take a valuable life lesson on board. Emulating your superior officer neither made you like him or her, nor made your subordinates believe you are like him or her. Time to live and learn, Corporal.

The words came out before Mackenzie could stop them. She'd never been in a position to explain the failure of the team to a commanding officer before. After the fact, she was pretty sure the only thing she should have said was, "I screwed up, Captain." That would have earned her more respect and no doubt a reprieve from his subtle wrath.

"It happened incredibly fast, Sir. The men were caught off-gua—"

His frown told her all she needed to know how he felt about that response. He raised his hand. "Enough." He walked around his desk to face them. He didn't waste any time with reprimands. "Dismissed, Corporal. I'd like a moment alone with Lieutenant Reed."

She stood ramrod straight and turned on her heel with a curt, "Sir."

The door slid shut. "Lieutenant. Suggestions on how we get our security situation back on track. I don't want any more unexpected guests dropping by while we focus on retrieving T'Pol, but I don't need you babysitting the MACOs right now either."

Malcolm made the call he'd hoped to avoid. "I'd suggest placing Sergeant Kemper in temporary command of the MACOs, Sir."

Archer nodded. "See to it, Lieutenant."

Malcolm caught up with a slightly fuming Mackenzie at the Turbolift.

"CORPORAL!," he said in a raised tone. She halted at the door and waited, entering the lift together.

"Bridge."

Malcolm didn't beat around the bush. This wasn't the time to dress her down, nor did he want to go easy on her.

"Kemper will assume temporary command of the Unit." He waited for an argument that didn't come, though he did notice the slight shade of red creep up her neck. "Not to put too fine a point on it, you screwed up, Mackenzie, but this is not the time to take you to task over it. We have a missing crewman to find."

He turned to face her, while she continued to train her gaze on the door ahead.

"You will step down of your own volition and put Kemper in charge for now."

She looked at him then. "Sir?"

"Don't question me, Corporal. That's an order," he replied as the door opened to the Bridge.

"Yes, Sir." Malcolm didn't spare a second glance back as he headed over to Hoshi's station and the door closed to take Mackenzie to the MACO quarters and face the music.

She took a deep breath. She didn't feel any better for it.

T'Pol woke. Or had she?

The only thing she was actually aware of was her own presence of mind and the cool feel of the metal against her back and around her wrists and ankles. The darkness around her was complete. The silence absolute. No smell, no sound, even the air tasted of nothingness. One certainty, which only added to her rising disquiet, she was no longer on Enterprise.

She remained calm and waited. Logically nothing would be gained by behaving otherwise until she knew more of her circumstances.

An authoritative but calm voice penetrated her mind. She couldn't tell immediately if the voice was actually IN her mind or cutting through the darkness and coming via her auditory nerve such was the feeling of sensory deprivation.

"We have no wish to harm you, Vulcan. We simply require some information and then we will return to your ship."

T'Pol had only seconds to steel herself before the probing onslaught invaded her mind.


	19. Chapter 19

**_14 Years Previously…._**

 _Lunar Outpost, Station 3. Training Zone for MACO Cadets._

"HAYES! WHAT THE BLUE BLOODY BLAZES DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, SOLDIER?!"

Hayes ignored the question.

"GET YOUR JUVENILE ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, YOU THICK-HEADED YANK, OR I'LL HAVE IT ON THE BLOODY BLOCK FOR BLOODY INSUBORDINATION!"

"Sorry Sir, I didn't catch that, you're breaking up," Hayes said before cutting off the comm link with his commanding officer.

He manoeuvred the thrusters on his environmental suit and pushed forward towards his target. Schoten, a fellow cadet had gotten himself into trouble on their latest exercise. Hayes was damned if he was just gonna sit on his lily-white laurels and watch a fellow cadet hyperventilate his way into oblivion. Hayes had never seen anything like it, at least not in the controlled and safe environment of the training zones. A bizarre fluke accident that had never happened before that day or since, in subsequent years to any other cadet. Schoten had excelled as a potential MACO in every way. Not top of the class but in the top 3%, good enough to stroll up the command structure in record time.

But no formal investigation into the incident was undertaken, Schoten was simply dismissed from the MACO training program and quietly disappeared.

Hayes never saw him again after he left West Point.

Until now.

There was no recognition in his eyes. No hint that Hayes was a familiar face. Evidently, while Hayes had managed to retain his composure - inner reeling and turmoil aside - something in the look he gave him must have betrayed a hint of recognition on his part.

Schoten held his gaze and reached out a confident hand with no trace of a smile, as he strode across the room to introduce himself.

"James," he said. "A pleasure to meet you, Marcus." He dropped his hand before saying, "have we met?"

"I don't think so," Matthew replied. "I doubt we move in similar circles and if we did, I'd like to think I'm good enough at my job that you'd forget me almost instantly. Or you wouldn't have to on account of being already dead."

James gave a slight smile at that comment. "Richard was right. You are our kind of human."

Truth be told, Matthew was starting to feel a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment just as James turned away, to tamp it down. 'What the hell have you gotten me into, Meara?,' he thought to himself.

If he didn't feel it before, he certainly was feeling it now. Matthew Hayes was in way over his head and he was beginning to realise the only way out was to swim through the madness and hopefully come out the other side retaining some of his fraying sanity.

James took a seat, inviting Matthew to do the same. "What you did last night, with no questions, no hint of remorse, such single-minded clarity, that was impressive, Marcus. As an organisation, we are in our infancy but we want to grow. Unfortunately for a long time, all we've been attracting is other infants and while such people have their uses, they are a means to an end, not the end in itself. They are ruled by emotion, passion dictates their actions and invariably those actions bring the work and efforts of Terra Prime into disrepute. If we are to successfully realise our mission, we need to be taken seriously. By Starfleet, by our government, by the media, by the very people Terra Prime are trying to protect our planet from."

"Everybody wants respect," Matthew chimed in.

"And some deserve it more than others," James continued.

 _'Arrogant,'_ thought Matthew to himself. _'No wonder these guys don't play well with others and never will, if this is the kind of person they look to for leadership.'_

James looked at him with an expression resembling pity. "You suffered a great loss in the Xindi attack. I'm sorry that you were a victim of such an atrocity."

"Two great losses actually," Matthew responded calmly.

James tilted his head as though assessing his response. "You don't seem particularly emotional about it."

"I've dealt with those demons. Said goodbye to my dead. Now, I get to take care of those responsible by association. If it ain't human, it's fair game as far as I'm concerned," Matthew said. The bile was rising to his throat. _'If I don't throw up when I get out of here for even thinking that, I might as well cut out my tongue,'_ he thought.

The smile he got for that comment was returned with an equally knowing one in kind.

"Welcome to the fold, Marcus."

 _Assuming I don't get my ass handed to me on a plate if this whole thing goes South, I've got some serious nose-out-of-joint Karma to set right after all this._


	20. Chapter 20

**NOTE: Apologies for the delay. My muse is simultaneously kicking my arse and tempting me with distractions like some wily Orion girl would a starry-eyed Starfleet officer.**

* * *

Archer paced the floor of his Ready Room like a man possessed.

He stopped and hit the comm. "Archer to Lieutenant Reed."

"Sir."

"Anything, Lieutenant?"

"As a matter of fact, Captain, yes." Archer felt the hope leap in his chest. "I was just about to comm you before having Hoshi send the findings to your console."

"Do that. Then both of you get in here. On the double," he said before cutting the link.

Less than 60 seconds passed, each one feeling a lot longer than it should, before Reed and Hoshi entered his room. Archer had since brought up the details of Hoshi's analysis on his display.

"What am I seeing here, Ensign?" Archer asked, frowning impatiently, without looking away from the screen.

Hoshi took a breath. "The signature on the left, Sir, is that which we picked up while scanning the area just before the Sub-Commander's abduction." She paused, glancing towards Malcolm who nodded at her to continue. "The one of the left, is the quantum signature emitted by the minefield surrounding the Minshara planet where we nearly lost Lieutenant Reed… And you, Captain."

Archer glanced at her before tapping an overlay key function into his console. Sure enough, there was a 92% match between the signatures, enough to eliminate any doubt that both signatures were of the same origin.

Enterprise had little known contact with the species since that almost deadly encounter, but it was enough to cause him deep concern for the fate of T'Pol, who had told them little other than they were an aggressive, territorial race with considerably advanced technology.

"So you're telling me that T'Pol is in the hands of the Romulan Star Empire?"

"It would appear so, Captain," replied Malcolm, a faint look of despair hovering just on the edge of his features. "Now that we recognise the signature, we at least know better the nature of our adversary."

Archer was doing his best to collect himself and think beyond the danger in which T'Pol must be in right now. It had been two Earth hours since her abduction and they had little to work with, a point at which to even begin a search. And if the Orions were in their back pockets, who knows? T'Pol could find herself sold into slavery as soon as her usefulness to her captors had been exhausted…. As quickly as those thoughts had passed through his mind, Travis' voice sprung urgently from his comm.

"Mayweather to Captain Archer. We're being hailed, Sir."

Without acknowledging or dismissing Reed or Sato, Archer rounded the desk as fast as humanly possible and exited his room onto the Bridge. Reed and Sato followed to their stations.

"On screen, Ensign."

Archer had expected to see the looming features of an Orion staring impassively at him from the visual. Instead, the entire Bridge was treated to the alluring sight of an Orion female. Archer's brain flooded unexpectedly with a response he hadn't been prepared for, in direct conflict with his concern for T'Pol's safety. Momentarily, he lost the thread of his senses.

Her voice, commanding, soft and gentle, broached no argument.

"Captain Archer. Our associates wish to convey their apologies for the inconvenience, and relay assurances to you and your crew that your First Officer will be returned to you - unharmed - within one of your Earth hours. Please maintain your present position."

The screen returned to its view of space even before Archer had a chance to open his mouth to respond.

* * *

Despite the desire to kick her ass and dreaming about doing just that for about a week, Kemper couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for his fellow MACO.

Mackenzie had gathered them all in the training area where initially, most of them had thought they were going to be reprimanded for losing the ship's First Officer. She had taken five minutes beforehand to brief Kemper on the situation and only he was appraised of what was to come. So to have Mackenzie tell them that she was voluntarily removing herself from command, accepting full responsibility for the breach in their defences once the intruders had penetrated the ship's own, and placing the Unit under Kemper's command came as a bit of a surprise. But then space was unexplored, unfathomable and unpredictable. Why should it be a surprise when each one of them, in their experiences of this life, came to discover elements within themselves that were equally so?

On hearing his name, Kemper stepped out of line and stood beside Mackenzie. They faced each other, saluted and Mackenzie fell into line. It wasn't a palpable feeling by any means but Mackenzie could sense the slight shift in her fellow officers. It might have been relief, but Mackenzie would have plenty of time to dwell on her time in command and assess its repercussions. First things first. Kemper was in temporary command now and the MACOs stood to attention awaiting his orders.

Kemper considered the options quickly. He'd been in enough conflict scenarios to know that the situation could change rapidly and without warning. He turned from the team and walked to the comm.

"Kemper to Lieutenant Reed."

"Go ahead, Sergeant."

"Could you provide an update on the situation please, Sir?"

Reed got straight to the point. "We are playing the waiting game, Sergeant. I will be able to better appraise you and your team within the hour, hopefully with positive news."

"Thank you, Sir. Kemper out."

He walked back to the team. The exhaustion and self-reprimand on some of their faces was evident. He understood they despised being as powerless as he but conveying perspective in any scenario was the job of a leader. It was obvious that if this was a battle, if T'Pol's abductors had wanted to blow Enterprise out of the sky, they would have done it by now.

"Return to your quarters."

"Sir?" Mackenzie enquired, still trying to shake off the remaining vestiges of her previous position in command.

"You heard me. Stay in uniform, weapons by your side. What I don't want is you fraying each other's nerves about this while we wait to hear more. It happened. One hour of quiet time to collect yourselves and your thoughts. And if the Captain needs us, he'll make the call. Dismissed."

"SIR!"

* * *

Time really does have no meaning out here, Archer thought. It was possibly the longest hour of his life and the powerlessness and impotence he felt was tempered only by one overriding thought: What would the Vulcan do?

She would be calm, logical and downright irritatingly so about it.

So Archer took a leaf out of her manual and placed a modicum of hope in the fact that the Orions, having revealed themselves and their intent to him, would not want to start a war with the Federation and would indeed return T'Pol as promised. And if they didn't? Well, they would discover, just like the Xindi, that Hell hath no fury…


	21. Chapter 21

_NOTE: I have a soft, squishy spot somewhere in my hippocampus for conversations between Matthew and Meera. So I'm indulging myself a little here._

* * *

Matthew and Meera were in her apartment sharing space on the sofa and a drink while going over the plan to grab Schoten. Banter between soldiers, especially in stressful pre-combat situations was a pre-requisite talent of his, a means of easing tensions, that Matthew Hayes tended to keep to himself. He found it came relatively easy in Meera Shaw's presence.

"You know, if you ever need… a donor… to keep the Shaw genetic line intact…"

She raised an eyebrow as she drew her glass from her lips. "Are you offering your services, Major?"

He coughed to cover his smile. "No, but I'm pretty sure there's a certain Englishman who would be more than willing to step into the breach… so to speak…"

She bellowed with laughter at that. "For a military man, you've got a heck of a sense of humour."

He smiled. "Just thought I'd put that out there. He does like to be of service to a good cause."

"STOP!" her laughter continued, unabated. "You're killing me here!"

She calmed her chuckling though the smile remained intact. "Don't get me wrong, Major. Malcolm is all kinds of right. He made me more human, better attuned to its vulnerabilities, and for my part in our dalliance, I like to think I made him stronger. As strong as I could without breaking him more."

Matthew was intrigued but didn't press her on the subject. You don't lie on your stomach for hours on end, scouting out the movements of your adversary in hostile conditions without understanding the benefits that a little patience can reap in the long term. And as far as he was concerned, Malcolm Reed was long-term…

She looked at him as she spoke, her expression sober again. "Anyway, that particular situation is taken care of. Starfleet, in collaboration with the Science Academies on Denobula and Vulcan, have taken the necessary biological material from me. There will be little Meera's roaming round the Galaxy for generations to come."

Matthew couldn't help but look somewhat horrified. "Eu— Eugenics?"

"Yes," she said bluntly, "and no."

"No petri dishes were used in the design of these babies," she said, mock-sounding like a 21st century disclaimer at the end of an advertisement. "They will have mothers, conceived and then implanted and born in the natural manner to a willing surrogate to be raised as a normal human. If they exhibit Augment signs, they will be observed until they come of age, if not, they will be left in peace to lead normal lives as normal humans."

Matthew shook his head, sadness and exasperation marring his features. "Do you truly believe that, Meera? They'll be cut open to find out why they didn't turn out like Mother Zero."

"Cynic," she muttered.

"Realist," he countered firmly.

"I have to believe, Matthew," she said, resting her hand on his forearm, forcing him to look into her eyes and see the genuine hope, the belief that humanity could be more than it thought possible despite the endless almost insurmountable limitations they were forced to overcome. "I know that you, even more so than the man I consider my best friend in the world, are as hopeful as I for our future on the galactic stage." She sighed. "You are blessed with an ability to see things with an enviable clarity. A compassionate soldier. A rare and beautiful thing…"

Fortunately the light was dim in the room so she couldn't quite see his blush, and if she had, she had the decency not to comment on it. At least not a second time… "As are you," he said.

"Not as much as you might think…," she said quietly.

Meera spoke thoughtfully. "Mistakes are inherent in humanity and though it may take a while, we do learn from them. Eventually."

A warm, comfortable silence hung between them.

She was the first to break it. "Anyway. To the task at hand, soldier!" She beamed with pride levelled at him. "We never would have gotten this far without you, Hayes," Meera said. "Now, Section is back in Terra Prime's midst, we can end this."

"Not sure it's realistic to expect the outcome to be the end of centuries of bigotry and xenophobia, Meera. The crapfest that is that attitude is hardwired into humanity, and probably most other alien species as we've learned. The hard way."

She waved a hand dismissively. "You know what I mean. Section 31 operate outside the rules of Starfleet, as do Terra Prime. We can beat them at their own game by using their own tools against them. For now at least. Paradigm shifts take time. I should know," she said with a smile. "I'm the start of one."

Matthew hadn't thought of her in those terms before. He wondered at her resilience in the face of such responsibility. Augment or not. There was a companionable silence between them for a few beats before Meera changed subject.

"So this gathering you're going to with your new boyfriend…" she teased, trying to ease the tension of the impending operation. Everything was coming to a climax. She was confident Hayes could handle himself though. He had to. She hoped, once she revealed the whole dark truth he would help her see her part through too. Malcolm Reed deserved a little justice. Meera Shaw was more than willing to dole it out on his behalf.

"If he had his way, maybe," Hayes said, humourlessly.

"Walk me through the motions."

"Richard and I arrive together. After about twenty minutes, I make an excuse to shake him off for a few minutes and go to speak to Schoten. I offer to grab him a drink. He has no reason to doubt my motives as I've passed their tests, proven my loyalty to the cause and my trustworthiness in keeping my mouth shut."

"You forgot witty, handsome…"

Matthew gave her a sideways look. "Why do I get the feeling you're not taking this seriously?"

"Oh I am. Just some light relief you know. We're close, and I'm utterly confident in your abilities to pull this off. A veritable space walk for you, Major."

She took a sip of her whiskey. "So far so good," she said. "Continue."

"I grab us both a drink and slip the tracker into his glass. After an hour of polite conversation and talking about our mutual dislike of all things in the galaxy outside Earth's atmosphere, I leave, citing an early start for target practice as the reason and rendezvous with you so we can follow and capture the target. Quick, quiet, clean."

She slapped him on the back. "See, soldier boy? Space walk."


End file.
